


Phoenix Rising

by badcircuit



Category: The Town (2010)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Dom/sub, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcircuit/pseuds/badcircuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting leads to a complicated situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James “Jem” Coughlin turns up in your ‘hood like a naughty lost puppy and you rescue him.

You were standing in line at Starbucks late on a Friday afternoon, minding your own business, when he sidled up next to you like he belonged there.  You gave him your best _excuse me_ look but he just smirked and didn’t budge an inch. 

“Um, can I help you with something?” you whispered.

He leaned in to violate your personal space just a little more and hissed back, “Just lemme stand here with you a minute.  It ain’t gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

Well, that was rude.  And hot in a cocky, pushy way that pushed all of your dysfunctional buttons.  You took a moment to size him up.  From the top of his buzz cut head to bottom of his black and white Nikes, he had townie written all over him.  And not just your usual townie but one of those roughneck Charlestown types.  Everyone knew what went down in Charlestown.

“What’d you just do, rob a bank and fuck up your getaway?” 

He didn’t say a word, just gave you a look that would have sent most men running or at the very least, shut most people up.  You weren’t most people.  That look was like issuing you some kind of challenge. 

You reached over and wove your fingers through his.  You could feel the shock reverberate through his body, and his grip on your hand tightened for the briefest moment.  His head jerked towards you, eyes showing a flash of disbelief before the poker face slammed back down into place.

With a smile, you stood on tiptoes and whispered right in his ear, “You know what, Townie Boy?  I don’t give a shit.”

You felt the tension seep out of him, only to be replaced by something else.  Something electric and exciting.  Something a little dangerous. 

“You’re some crazy chick, huh.”  It wasn’t a question.  He didn’t look at you, just kept staring straight ahead at the menu board, but a crooked little grin replaced the mean mug and it sent a bolt of heat straight to your crotch.  Worse than that though was the foolish idea forming in your horny brain.

“That’s what my friends all say.  Did you kill anybody?”

“Shhh!  Nah…Jesus, what do I fuckin’ look like?”

He looked so genuinely offended, you almost felt bad for asking.  You laughed a little and squeezed his hand.  It was big, a little rough and so warm you couldn’t suppress a shiver imagining both of his hands on you, all over you.  “Like a thug—what do you want me to say?  It’s just…I can’t take you home and hide you if you killed somebody.  And I really want to take you home.”

He tugged you out of line and into a quiet corner.  “You really are nuts, huh?” 

“I thought we covered this already.  So I live right down the street.  You coming or not?”  You chuckled at your private double entendre—you _were_ nuts for what you were considering doing with him—and received a predictable scowl in return. 

He came.  He put his arm around you and huddled you up nice and close and you could feel his hard body all along your side.  You knew he was only holding you that way for cover from whoever he was ditching but that didn’t take away how good it felt.  When you got to your place, he let you go so you could open the door and for just a brief moment you wondered what the hell _was_ wrong with you.  You looked at him standing there, hands in his track jacket pockets, shoulders hunched, eyes darting around, looking guilty as fuck, and knew that of course, the smart thing would have been to tell him to fuck off back in Starbucks. 

You weren’t one for choosing the smart thing.  The smart thing was boring. 

Your intuition was not sounding the alarm.  You’d made a mistake once by not trusting your intuition and gotten burned.   Somehow you knew you’d be safe with him.  Or at least safe in the ways that mattered most.

You led the way up the narrow staircase to your flat.  You could feel his eyes on your ass and thanked the universe you’d worn your favorite black skinny jeans that molded it just right.

“Sheltering a felon, that’s a first for me,” you said, tossing your custom Hellboy bag on the beat-up puke green couch you’d inherited from the previous tenant.  “Want a drink?  I’ve got Jameson.”  He looked like a Jameson guy.  Or maybe Guinness. 

“Sure.” 

As you found glasses and poured, you watched him wander around your tiny living room, looking at all of your random shit, fingering your action figures.  He had long, thick, knobby fingers.  You got so caught up imagining what those fingers would feel like inside you, you almost spilled precious liquid courage all over the counter.

“You from here?”  He was holding up a picture of ten year old you and your parents from happier times, in front of a local school that had long since closed up.  “Sometimes you sound like it and then you sound like a fuckin’ tunie.”

There was a smart-ass comeback on the tip of your tongue but you swallowed it.  Instead you handed him his Jameson, neat, and touched your glass to his before taking a foolishly large gulp.  “I was born here, lived here awhile until shitty stuff happened and then we left my dad and moved to Michigan.  I came back for college and been here ever since.  Do I get my townie card back?” 

He smirked and took a long slug.  “Whatever.”  Only it came out like whatevah.  He had the stereotypical working class Boston accent thing going and coming out of his mouth, it was like a weird aphrodisiac. 

“So what’s your name, Townie Boy?”

“Fuck you.  Think I’m gonna tell you that so you can go snitching as soon as I leave?”

“I just wanna know what name to scream while we’re fucking.”

That stopped him cold.  He tossed the rest of the whiskey back and carefully set the glass aside.  His movements were slow and controlled, like a snake about to strike.  You hastily finished off your drink and moved towards the kitchen to put your own glass in the sink but you didn’t get far before he was in front of you, blocking your way. 

He had that mean look again, but his eyes—an uncommon mix of blue and green with uneven flecks of amber around each pupil—were blazing hot and not with anger.  “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, little girl.”  He took the glass from you and put it on the counter, crowding you back against it.

“Well, you better tell me then, Townie Boy.  Or show me.”  Goading him like that was a terrible idea and you would have liked to blame it on the alcohol but the truth was simple.  You wanted him.  Didn’t matter what he did before or what happened after.  You wanted him and you knew he wanted you too.

“Bitch.  I’m gonna show you, alright.”

“Bring it, asshole.” 

He spun you around and shoved you over the counter like he meant to frisk you but instead pressed that hard, hot body all along yours.  You could feel an impressive bulge poking into your lower back and you pushed back against it.

“It’s Jem, baby.  I’m gonna make sure you don’t forget it.”

Before you could form a snappy retort, his hands were on you and then you could barely form a thought.  For a brief moment, he circled your throat and your pulse sped up perversely beneath his callused fingertips.  “You got a lotta trust, when you don’t know me from jack.  Crazy _and_ stupid.  You do this a lot?”

“Nope, never done it before.  You gonna choke me out or fuck me?  _Jem_.”

He murmured _crazy_ against the tender skin of your nape before running his hands down your arms, slow, so slow.  He pressed your hands flat against the counter.  “Keep ‘em there, no matter what.  You move, I stop.  Got it, College?”

“Yeah, sure.  Just do it.  Please.”

He smacked your ass hard enough to almost make you come up off the counter.  “You got a smart bossy mouth.  It’d be a shame to have to gag you when I got other plans for it.  You got rubbers?”

“Bedside table.”  He took his heat away and left you to contemplate his plans for your mouth.  You’d never been the biggest blowjob fan but the idea of getting on your knees for Jem and having him tell you in his gruff, filthy way exactly how to suck his cock brought a surge of hot arousal to your already slick pussy.

The now open box of condoms landed on the counter next to your right hand and then Jem was yanking your jeans and soaked panties down and, after a brief struggle with your Dr. Martens, off.  “Jesus girl, you’re fuckin’ ready for me, huh.” 

“God yes.”  You knew what you looked like.  You were so wet you could feel it shining on your thighs.

When he came up behind you again, the unexpected feel of his naked skin against yours had you jumping and turning before you could even think about it.  His hands came down on yours, holding you in place.  “Don’t make me stop.  I really don’t wanna stop now.”

“OK, sorry.  Absolutely don’t stop.”

He laughed, a full-out husky rumble against your back.  “Sounding a little desperate there…you want this?”  On the word _this_ , he notched his still bare cock between your ass cheeks and pumped.  He left a little trail of cool dampness on your overheated skin, and all you wanted in that moment was to be able to turn around and taste him, to get down on your knees and kiss away the pre-come he was marking you with.

Before the thought was barely finished, you’d blurted it out.  “Let me suck it.  Please.  Let me suck your cock.”

“I don’t know,” he whispered, stripping your top and bra down your arms to pool on the counter around your wrists.  “Do I wanna fuck your smart mouth or this juicy pussy first?”  He swept his left hand down your body, pinching, squeezing, stroking, before sliding two of those glorious fingers through your embarrassing wetness and working them inside you.

“Goddamn, you’re tight, girl.”  He stuck a foot between yours to widen your stance cop-style and it was all you could do to stay upright, let alone keep your hands on the counter. 

All you could do was moan in response and give in to being under his control.  He had you caged in with his body, one hand buried in your pussy and the other alternately squeezing your breasts and tugging your nipples.  You could feel the crisp hairs on his legs tickling along the backs of yours.  The feel of his cock sliding between your ass cheeks, the stubble on his chin scraping the tender skin where your shoulder and neck meet, and his whiskey-sweet breath hot against your ear was destroying the last of your sanity.

You choked back a scream, bucking against him when he ghosted his thumb over your clit.  “Jem wait…oh fuck.”  Your pussy clenched around his fingers and you struggled in his arms.  Your first instinct was to pull his hand away but you caught yourself just in time.  There was no way in hell you’d give him an excuse to stop now.

“Yeah, I can feel that, baby.  You gonna come for me?  Go on.  Come all over my fuckin’ hand.”

He twisted his fingers and hit some magical spot and it forced a sound out of you that wasn’t even human.  Combined with the steady, slick strokes of his rough thumb on your clit, you could feel your orgasm building, blooming somewhere deep in your belly or maybe your spine and then it hit like a tsunami.

“Oh God, oooohh fuck yes.”  You could hear yourself babbling like an idiot but it was so good.  Jem kept up the pressure on your clit until it almost hurt, until you slapped at the counter and snapped your thighs shut to still his hand.  “Stop. I can’t take anymore.”

He let you go with another one of those rusty chuckles, but not before nipping your shoulder and then soothing the sting with his tongue.  You heard him rustling around behind you and then he sauntered around the kitchen island, wiping his hand on your boring white panties.  He had the most gorgeous, bitable ass you’d seen on a guy.  “Oh, you’re gonna take a lot more before I’m done.  Unless you can’t handle it.  Say the word and I’ll grab my shit and go.”

You’d been resting your head on the counter, trying to catch your breath but you couldn’t resist a comeback to that.  “I kept my hands where you told me to, Townie Boy.  It’s gonna take more than a finger fuck to wear me out,” you said with a laugh.

He was leaning lazily against the counter in front of the sink, chugging a glass of water, completely at ease in his nudity, totally unselfconscious about the raging boner reaching clear to his navel.  His eyes took on an evil glint.  He wrapped a hand around his cock and gave it a couple of slow tugs. Even in the dim light, you could see the clear fluid beading in the slit. “There you go with the smart mouth again.  I think it needs to do something other than piss me off.  Grab a pillow off that ugly fuckin’ couch and get your ass over here, College.  I told you I got plans.”

Your mind wanted to rebel but your body had already recognized its master.  You did what he told you to do, going to stand in front of him with the pillow clutched against your belly. 

“You tryin’ to play shy now?  I’m gonna see everything, up close and personal, and so are you.”  With that he snatched the pillow away and dropped it on the floor at your feet. 

For a moment, all you could do was stare back at him.  When you nervously licked your lips, his gaze dropped and followed the movement.  His pupils dilated and he caught his bottom lip with his teeth.  “Tell me what you said before.  I wanna hear you say it.” 

You knew exactly what it was he wanted to hear you say.  You made yourself look him in the eyes, hard as it was.  “Please let me suck your cock, Jem.”

“Fuck yeah.  Get down there.”  One moment he was helping you get settled on the pillow, then the next he was cradling your face in one hand and guiding his cock toward your mouth with the other.

“Wait.  I know what to do but I was hoping…I want you to tell me what to do.  How you want me to do it.”

Of course he laughed, a sound you were coming to adore.  “Damn College, you are one dirty girl.  I like that.  Alright, here.”  He rubbed his cock back and forth across your lips until you parted them.  “Lick it.  Just the tip now.  Nice and slow for me.”

You did what he told you, lapping at the salty-sweetness, tracing around the flared edge of his head, lick-lick-licking his cock all over like an ice cream cone.

He made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan that was like a kick to the gut.  You followed the ridge along the underside of his cock, down to where he was still gripping it, and flicked at his fingers.   You spent a few leisurely moments exploring his tight, lightly furred sac with the flat of your tongue before kitten licking back up again.

“Jesus Christ, that’s fuckin’ hot.  Now suck me.” 

You started out slow like with the licking, just teasing a little and getting the feel of him.  On each downward pass, you took a little more, working his hard length into your mouth an inch at a time.  He took his hand away and you replaced it with yours, squeezing and jerking along with every drag of your lips up and down.

He ran his fingers through your hair and tugged your head back.  “Look at me.  I wanna see how much you love it.”

You obeyed.  And you did love it.  You loved the fierce look on his face as he stared down at you.  You loved the musky smell and taste of him.  You loved the sounds he was making and the way a clever swirl of your tongue made his breath hitch and his abs jump. 

“Stop.”  His fingers tightened in your hair and he pulled away abruptly.  “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.  And you’re not gettin’ off that easy.  Besides, you promised me name screaming, College.  C’mon.” 

He pretty much had to walk you down the hall to your bedroom because you were still reeling from the whole blowjob thing.  It took you a moment to even put together a proper sass.  “I never _promised_ anything, Townie Boy.  You’re gonna have to step your game up.” 

You fell down together on the bed, making it creak ominously.  Another hand-me-down from a friend, back when you’d managed to scrape together enough to escape to your own little safe haven; it was barely sturdy enough for you alone.  You expected him to pounce on you and pin you down or maybe bang your brains out doggy-style, but Jem was full of surprises.

He stretched out on his back, once again basking shamelessly in his nudity.  Not like you’d been with many guys, but you’d never seen one so comfortable in his skin.  He just didn’t give a fuck, something you’d never realized could be so sexy until right at that moment.

He pressed a condom packet into your hand.  “You do the honors, baby, and then ride me.  I wanna see you.”

You froze, you couldn’t help it.  “I can’t, Jem.  I’m not really…good that way.”

“Who told you that?  The asshole that broke your nose?  C’mon College, I don’t got a fancy degree but I ain’t blind.”    

You touched the bump on your nose you’d learned to accept the same way you accepted your big thighs and slightly crooked front teeth and stared at him, speechless.  Were you really that transparent?

“And this…” he stroked gently over the tattoo covering the lump on your ribcage, just beneath your right breast where a broken rib had healed badly.  Of course, he would have felt it earlier when he had his hands all over you. “It’s a phoenix, huh?”

You had to laugh at yourself to keep from crying.  “The phoenix rises from the ashes.  Jeez, I’m like the most pathetic domestic abuse victim ever, right?”

“You live in this shithole and you probably work at some fucked up place that don’t deserve you and you take home a loser like me.  I can do the math, College.”  He touched your tattoo again, so light and careful you wanted to cry all over again.  “Hey, you made it out. That’s a _survivor_ , not a victim.  Just give me the fucker’s address later and I’ll take care of him.  Now come over here.”

You went.  Together, you worked the condom down over his cock, which by now was so hard and sensitive that every little touch forced sounds out of him that made your pussy throb and ache.

You weren’t the smallest girl but he gripped your waist and lifted you onto his lap like it was nothing.  His arms flexed and bulged with the task and you couldn’t help touching them, squeezing his biceps, leaning over and tracing one of the many prominent veins with your tongue.

He slid his hands down to your ass and began to drag you back and forth over his cock.  Your pussy was so wet and slippery and his hardness was rubbing you in all the right places.  You lay your head down against his chest, felt his heart thundering away beneath your cheek, and let him show you how it was supposed to be.

When he changed his angle and eased inside of you, it was like everything else ceased to exist.  Things done and words said in the past slipped away and the only thing that mattered was the pleasure here and now.

He paused, tipping your face up so he could see your eyes.  “You okay?”

It was such a sweet romantic gesture and so not how you’d imagined him to be that you laughed, and he frowned in a much more Jem-like manner, which made you laugh some more.  “I’m better than okay.  Really.  It’s just…this is good, Jem.  You feel so good like this.”

He smirked.  “Then we can keep going ‘cause I’m dyin’.  Sit up now, baby.  I need to see you.”

Sitting up intensified the goodness, or maybe it was the way he was looking at you and then touching you.  He brushed your hair back so you couldn’t hide the big boobs you’d spent a lifetime trying to camouflage and brushed his thumbs over your painfully hard nipples.  You squirmed restlessly and the goodness jacked up to amazing but it still wasn’t enough.  “Jem…” 

“That’s twice in five minutes you said my name, College.  I must be doing something right.”  He flexed his hips, sinking in a little deeper.  “Go on, girl, take what you need.  Fuck yourself on me.”

Closing your eyes, you braced your hands behind you on his thighs and fucked him.  A little awkwardly at first but it was easy to feel like a sex goddess when he kept up a constant stream of gasping, moaning and cursing.  And then he started moving, digging his fingers into your hips so hard you were sure you’d have bruises.  The thought of having your skin marked by his touch excited you in ways you didn’t want to examine too closely and besides, you were having trouble thinking straight anyway.

When you looked down, the sight of him made you dizzy with lust.   Head thrown back, the tendons in his neck standing out, he was watching you through heavy-lidded eyes.  His skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and he kept touching his tongue to his upper lip. 

“Oh God, Jem…”

“Yeah baby?  You close? “

“So close.  Touch me, please.”

He sat up and pulled you to him, lavishing your neglected nipples with some much needed attention.  The combination of his prickly little mustache on your hypersensitive skin and the hot suction of his mouth had you writhing frantically.  “ _Jem._ ”  You clutched at his hair, too short to get a grip on, either to hold him closer or push him away. 

“Fuuuck yes.  Give it to me.”  He worked a hand between your bodies and pressed _right there_ and you went off like a gun.  You’d never been very vocal in bed but you could hear yourself crying and pleading and yes, chanting his name like a prayer.

Before you could catch your breath, he’d pulled you down and wrapped his arms around you so tight, it almost hurt.  Holding you in place, he started thrusting hard, so hard you were sure the bed was going to give up the ghost. 

And then he did the most un-Jem-like thing of all.  He sought your mouth out for a kiss.  A kiss so full of tongue, desperate moaning and filthy praise for your pussy, you came all over again.

His hips slowed; it seemed like time froze for a moment as he looked up into your eyes.  “Oh…there.  I’m coming for you.  Can you feel it?”  One, two, three slow, deep strokes and then he held still inside you and you could feel each pulse of his orgasm.  The intensity of it was sharp and sweet and perfect.

“You okay, College?  I didn’t hurt you, did I?”         

You wanted to laugh and be your usually sassy self, but it was too much trouble.  The only thing keeping you from passing out from pleasure was the tingly friction feel of him rubbing his stubbly chin right above your ear.  “Mmfff.”

“Hey…rubber.”  He slid out from under your boneless body and took care of business in your postage stamp-sized bathroom.  He didn’t close the door and you didn’t see any reason not to enjoy the view.  He had the most adorable ass dimples. 

“That was some mighty fine fucking, College.  I’m impressed.”  He slapped you on the ass and sat down on the edge of the bed.   Dropping his head into his hands, he scrubbed at his buzz cut.   

Ah, back to Charlestown Jem.  You’d seen some things in his eyes in that moment right before he came that you were pretty sure not many people had seen and shared a few of your own that were best left alone. 

“You leaving now?” 

“Hell no.  Just wondering what you got to eat.  You kicking me out?”

“Hell no.  What do you like?”

“I was thinking pancakes.”

And so you found yourself in the kitchen way past dinner time, sitting at the island, watching while he destroyed your kitchen, shirtless and barefoot with his jeans slung so low you could almost see the crack of his ass.  It was the craziest thing and when he was gone, you wouldn’t regret a single moment.

“Where’s that Jameson?”

“Huh?”

He turned around and gave you that smirk that would probably haunt your dreams. “You ogling me back there, College?  I thought you were better than that.  The Jameson.  I need it for my special syrup that’s gonna blow your fuckin’ mind.”

Despite the mess, he knew his way around a kitchen.  Before long, the smell of pancakes and alcohol-spiked maple had your stomach rumbling.  You couldn’t help imagining him as Boston’s version of Emeril Lagasse.  Instead of ‘BAM!’ he’d say ‘Wicked pissah!’

He sat down next to you with an obscenely large stack compared to the four he’d given you.  They were nearly as big as the plate.  He’d slathered on butter that was still melting and drizzled on enough syrup it made your teeth hurt to look at.  It was the best thing you’d ever seen.

“You’re not ready for this, baby.”  He speared a mouthful and held it out to you.

“I think that pretty much sums up this whole evening.”  The pancakes were probably the best you’d ever had, so tender and buttery, and the syrup was pretty much liquid sex.  “Oh my God.”

“Right?”  He looked so pleased with himself you had to laugh.

You chewed slowly, savoring each bite, watching him demolish his stack.  You had to store up every little memory of this amazing, bizarre experience so you could replay it back again and again after he was long gone.

“So what happens now?  Is the coast clear?”

He stopped eating and set his fork down with exaggerated care.  “We’re not goin’ there, College.  That shit don’t exist for you, got it?”

You sighed and tried again.  “I’m sorry.  I’m being a woman.  I just want to know when you’re leaving.”

He gave you a look that was impossible to interpret.  “Lemme borrow your cell.”

He went in the bedroom and you busied yourself with cleaning up the kitchen and making enough noise to drown out his voice.

“My buddy’s coming by the Starbucks for me tomorrow.  He don’t need to know about this place.”  Or you.  You understood the reasoning behind doing it that way but it still sucked.

“Yeah, okay.”  You hadn’t turned towards him when he came back into the room and there was no way you were going to turn around now.  You scrubbed at the counter hard enough to rub the laminate off.  His going tomorrow versus staying another day or two was like ripping a bandage off versus peeling it off slowly.  Either way it was going to hurt.

Nobody made any promises, no vows were made.  It was fucking, plain and simple.  And _you_ were the one who started it.

You were so busy drying the shit out of the plate you didn’t hear him cross the room.  He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you back against him, nibbling at your earlobe.  “Fuck those dishes, College.  Let’s go take a shower and hit the bed.” 

You fucked in the shower, in the bed again, against the kitchen counter when you woke up at 2 a.m. to eat the rest of the pancakes, on the ugly fuckin’ sofa and on the living room floor, where you ended up bunking down.  You woke up to the smell of Jameson syrup and Jem going down on you. 

Over a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast that paled in comparison to Jem’s pancake bonanza, you went out of your way to be pleasant instead of the one night stand with stupid, unrealistic expectations.

“You’re pissed at me.”

“I’m pissed at myself.”  You scrubbed at your face with your hands.  “Isn’t it time for you to go?  Let me give you back your shirt.”   You’d been wearing his black Irish Pub Boxing shirt off and on since the day before.

“Nah, you keep it.  Looks better on you.”  He zipped his track jacket up over his bare chest and stood there for a moment, rubbing a finger over his mouth.   “Thanks, College.”

You didn’t say anything.  You couldn’t without blurting out something idiotically naïve or bursting into tears.  He took one last look around at your shithole and then he was gone.

Just like that, it was over.  And you didn’t even have the balls to say goodbye.

You went on with your life of course, because that’s what people do.  Shit happens and you carry on.  You dumped the little bit of Jameson left in the bottle and refilled it with the leftover sex syrup and kept it in the back of the refrigerator, almost out of sight.  You slept in the IPB shirt every night.  And every day, you watched the newscasts and scoured the paper and the internet, reading about the latest out of Charlestown.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jem has returned and it ain't all good.

For the first time in forever, you had a good time out with a guy.  Granted, it was with Rick, a gay friend from work, but it still counted as being out with a male.  Your face felt a little sore from all the smiling after so many months of not finding much joy in anything at all.  Picking up a goon townie named Jem and getting your sad little world rocked had nearly broken you.  You hadn’t told a soul, just battled through it on your own, because who would understand being obsessed and a little lovesick over a guy you spent one night with and whose real name you didn’t even know?

You were still grinning when you entered your place, thinking of some crack Rick had made about the hipsters overrunning the city.

“Hey, College.”

How many times had you imagined hearing that voice again?  Thousands of times easily, hundreds of thousands.  What you couldn’t have imagined was exactly how you’d feel if you ever did:  Relieved, ecstatic, aroused, confused, terrified…angry as fuck. 

Jem.  _Jem_.

“How did you get in here?” you said.  You thought you sounded remarkably calm considering all the adrenaline flooding your body.

He was lounging on your new couch—a modern faux leather thing that had turned out to be uncomfortable as hell compared to what Jem had referred to as “the ugly fuckin’ couch.”  He had his feet up on the little wooden chest that doubled as an ottoman, and he was flipping through a stack of newspaper articles you’d kept on crime reports in and around Charlestown. 

“I’m a thug, remember?  B & E is cake.  You been keeping tabs on me, College?”  He waved the stack at you, the expression on his face—the face that you still looked for everywhere you went—so arrogant and sarcastic you itched to slap it.

You couldn’t deny it.  You couldn’t do anything at that moment but try desperately to keep your shit together.  Just when you’d finally convinced yourself he wasn’t coming back…

“You need to leave.  I want you to go.”  You nearly choked getting the lie out but every second you had to look at him, hear him, feel him here in your place again was like reliving the last six months of mourning his absence.

“Look at you, all decked out.  Your boyfriend treatin’ you good?”  He’d risen, dropping the clippings on the slippery couch.  You watched helplessly as they slid to the floor in a disordered heap.

“Get out.  Please.”

“You don’t bring him home like you done with me?  To fuck in your fancy new bed?”  He was so close now, close enough for you to smell the smoky, woodsy Jem scent that had long since disappeared from the Irish Pub Boxing shirt he’d left behind.  The shirt you still slept in every night.

“Ok, I’ll go then.”  You were trembling so hard your teeth were chattering.  You backed towards the door, fumbling behind you but couldn’t seem to make your stupid hand turn the doorknob.

“No!”  Jem slapped his hands on the door on either side of your head.  “No.  We ain’t done yet, College.  Not by a long shot.”  Oh God, he was so close you could feel his chest rise and fall with each fast, harsh breath he took, feel his warm breath on your face.  You wouldn’t look him in the eyes though.  You couldn’t or you’d die or cry or, worse, beg him to fuck you.

You laughed, high and hysterical.  “That’s really fucking funny, considering I haven’t seen you in six months.  Now just let me go.”

You brought your hands up to shove him away, only to have him grab your wrists and force them against the door next to your hips.  Before you could kick out to get loose, he’d sunk to the floor at your feet, his face pressed to your belly. 

“Can’t let you go, College.  I tried and I fuckin’ can’t.”  He sounded confused and desperate, not at all like his usual cocksure self.

“Please don’t…”  He’d let go of your wrists to wrap his arms around your hips but you couldn’t let yourself touch him.  You stood there flapping your hands over his head like an idiot.

He snuffled a little laugh and you could feel his lips moving through the thin cotton of your dress.  “I made it one fuckin’ month before I started doin’ drive-bys.  I never saw you and I was gettin’ worried.”

Jem worried about something; that was pretty hard to believe.  “I didn’t go out much for a while,” you admitted.  Or do much of anything else.  You’d even lost some weight. 

“Yeah well, I almost came up here so many fuckin’ times.  It was bad enough I was drivin’ around over here all the time.”  He gave you a squeeze and sighed heavily, his breath hot and moist even through the material.  “You know why I had to stay away, baby.  I shouldn’t even be here now.”

“So why are you here?”

“I saw you with that asshole and couldn’t take it no more.  Thought I was gonna have to kick his ass.”

Before you could tell him it was none of his fucking business, he was nuzzling his face into your crotch, his nose wedging your dress up tight against your clit. 

He inhaled deeply, exhaling with a groan.  “Fuck, College, I dream about this.”  His hands were under your dress, tugging your damp panties down.  “I need you real bad right now.”

“Jem…”  It was all you could manage.  You weren’t going to stop him and you hated yourself a little for that. 

“Yeah, say my fuckin’ name.”   He tucked the hem of your dress into your balled up fists and nudged your legs wider apart with his shoulders.  He hadn’t bothered to take off his leather jacket or any of the several layers of hoodie and shirts beneath it so his heated scent was rising up, surrounding you and intoxicating you like a drug.

“Jem.”  No.  It’s what you wanted to say, if not what you truly desired.  He must have heard something in your voice because he stopped kneading your ass and pulling you towards his mouth and looked up, those devastating eyes daring you to put up a fight.

“You don’t want this, College?  Tell me to stop.”

He laughed in triumph when you shut your eyes and turned your face away, your mouth silent but your body speaking volumes.  There was no way he could miss how hard your nipples were, even through the dress.  He could absolutely see how wet you were considering his face was inches away from your pussy.  The trembling had only gotten worse when he put his hands on you.

He spread you with his thumbs and licked slowly, from bottom to top.  “So fuckin’ sweet.  I ain’t even been able to look at a fuckin’ pancake since last time without gettin’ hard.”

That confession surprised a little laugh out of you.   Then you were gasping as he went at you like a starving man set loose on a buffet.  Your hand found its way to his head and he moaned against you when you dug your nails into his scalp.  “I haven’t been able to look at pancakes at all, you asshole.”

“There’s that smart mouth I missed.”

You tried not to cling to the word missed.  He was going to kill you all over again.  “Do me a favor and don’t talk right now, okay?”

“Anything you say, bossy girl.  You want my tongue busy with something else.”  He laughed that rusty laugh again and it was just too much.  You felt the anger rise up, nearly blotting out your mess of feelings at seeing him again.  Anger and a want so strong it made you breathless.

“Yeah.”  You grabbed hold of one ear and tugged, hard.  “So shut the fuck up and do it.”

You whipped the dress over your head and settled in for the ride.  You’d made yourself come many a night to memories of Jem’s mouth on you before.  This time was so much better though.  Every lick, lap and suck had an edge to it.  Rougher and a little painful.  All the parts of you that had died a little were being shocked back to life.  He worked two fingers into you, then a third.  “Yes, Jem.  Harder.”

“I don’t think your boy’s been treatin’ you right, College.”

“And that matters to you because?  Ouch, goddamnit!”

He’d sunk his teeth into your inner thigh hard enough to bruise and then went back to fucking you with his fingers and tongue.  “I told you why.”

“I don’t think you did.”  The bitch in you wanted to press the issue but Jem was damn good at destroying all of your best intentions with a well-placed flick of his tongue.  And then you were coming, so fast and hard you literally saw stars.  He kept on going past the point of pleasure, until you were banging your head against the door and scrabbling at his leather-clad shoulders, trying to push him off.  “Jesus, stop it.”

He was up off of the floor and on you in a heartbeat, fumbling his belt open and shoving his jeans down far enough to free his cock and slide on the condom that was suddenly in his hand.  You fought him a little for your pride’s sake until he pinned your hands above your head.  “You fightin’ me like that only makes me hotter.  I told you we wasn’t done.  I told you I can’t let you go.  I can’t give you much more than that, College, but I can give you this.”

And then he was inside you and you both gasped at the sudden pleasure of it.  Face to face, you couldn’t avoid looking at him anymore.  Jem’s expression, as usual, revealed everything he wouldn’t say—desire, lust, longing and something else that had alarms going off in your head.  But then he was kissing you and fucking you, and all that mattered was how good it felt to have him inside you, all over you again.  He yanked one lacy cup of your bra down with his teeth, sucking and biting urgently.  He switched to the other breast but didn’t bother to pull the fabric away, the hot wetness of his mouth molding the delicate fabric to your stiff nipple.  He freed your arms, draping them around his neck so he could grasp one of your knees and spread you wider.  There was no trace of the tender, careful Jem from before in the way he was handling you and it was so fucking good you laughed even as you felt the tears you’d been trying to hold in spill down your face.

“What the fuck?”  His thrusting faltered and he started to pull back and before you could think about it, your hand flew out and connected with his jaw hard enough to jerk his head to the side. 

“Oh God, I’m sorry.  You’re not supposed to be here.  You weren’t supposed to come back,” you whispered brokenly.  “But I wanted you to so bad.  I don’t even know your real name.  I’m kind of a mess here,” you admitted, sniffling.  You reached out to stroke the red imprint of your hand on his scruffy cheek, then slid your hand to the back of his neck, pulling his face to yours until your lips were a breath apart.  “I’m so sorry.  Don’t stop, Jem.  And don’t be nice.” 

The concern on Jem’s face transformed into that wicked, almost mean look that made your stomach flip.  “You talk too fuckin’ much.”  You felt him harden even further inside you, but whether it was his name on your lips or your request that he fuck you into next week that caused it, you didn’t know or care.  Just like that you found yourself hoisted up against the door, both thighs spread wide and supported by his strong arms as he pounded into you so hard you were worried the neighbors might call the cops.

The pleasure was as intense and raw as your emotions.  You struggled to work your hands under all those layers to get at his hot skin.  You managed to get one hand down the back of his shirt and the other up the front, where you could feel his ab muscles bunching with every snap of his hips.  He was biting and sucking, down one side of your throat, along your collarbone, marking you. 

“Like this?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you need to play with that pretty pussy of yours and come on my cock.  I ain’t got all fuckin’ night.”

Your whole body flushed at the idea of touching yourself with Jem watching.  He leaned back enough for you to get at your clit, watching avidly as you licked your forefinger and obeyed.  With his heated gaze on you, it didn’t take long before you were there, wrapping both legs around his waist and digging the nails of your other hand into the back of his neck until you felt the skin break.  “Ah fuck, Jem.  Come on.  Harder.”

“James.  That’s my real name.  Say it.”  With you clinging to him like a vine, he was free to pin your arms to the wall and get right up in your face. 

“Yes.  James…please.”  You kissed him and he started moving again with a new urgency but it wasn’t enough.  You felt frantic and out of control, bucking and writhing against him.  With your hands restrained you couldn’t get at him to scratch so you bit the only thing you could reach:  his tongue in your mouth. 

His rhythm faltered and he squeezed your wrists tighter.  He stiffened all over and came, whispering your real name against your lips.  You could only imagine where he gotten it from.  He kissed you again, nipping your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.  He laughed but it was off, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes.  “Still my dirty girl.”

You made a noncommittal noise in response to that.   Dirty, without a doubt.  The ‘his girl’ part hurt too much to think about.  “And for the record, Rick’s a friend from work.  A gay friend.”

“Whatever.”  God, how you’d missed the sound of his voice mangling the language.  When he stepped into the bathroom to clean up, you slid down the door, boneless and spent.  The tears started up in earnest again—not because things had gotten so rough but because you were back to wishing for something that wasn’t going to happen, despite your best efforts not to. 

Before you could get yourself together and shut off the waterworks, Jem came back out into the living room, took one look at you and shot across the room.  “Shit,” he breathed.  He knelt in front of you, awkwardly wiping your face with your mangled dress and helping you get it back on.  Your panties were nowhere in sight.  He touched a finger carefully to your bloody lip.  “Too much?”

As fucked up as it was, it hadn’t been enough. It was like something in you left along with him that day and the only chance you had to get it back lay with him, just out of reach.  “No, it’s not that.  I just think it’s time for you to tell me why you’re really here now.” 

He helped you up and sat you on the couch.  He gathered the newspaper clippings and set them carefully next to you before perching on the chest in front of you.  He wouldn’t meet your eyes, instead focusing on his hands as he turned the gold shamrock ring on his forefinger around and around.

“Listen… There’s a thing I gotta do and after I do it, I’m not gonna be around for a long time.  I needed—wanted—you to know.”

“So first you admit you’re stalking me and now you show up to tell me something—and you won’t even look at me so I know it’s bad—like you owe it to me?  Like I can do anything with this information besides torment myself again over why I even care?  I mean…what is this, Jem?”

He gave a short, angry laugh.  “You tell me.  You’re the one who didn’t fuckin’ say goodbye.”

Oh, that stung.  It was too stupid to think that Jem might have been as torn up as you all this time.  If you had the energy, you might have slapped him again.  As it was, all you could do was shift around on the goddamn hard slippery couch, trying to find a comfortable position.  You were going to be sore for a week.  “Because I didn’t want you to go but you said yourself, you’re living in a world that doesn’t exist for me.”  You reached up and grabbed two handfuls of hair in frustration.  “I did a crazy thing!  I brought you home and let you into my fucked up life and for some reason that I can’t explain, I cared.  I’ve spent the last six months trying not to, but I still do.”  Now that you admitted that, why not shoot for the moon?  “Whatever this thing is…what if I ask you not to do it?”

Jem rubbed the back of his neck and stared somewhere over your left shoulder, sighing heavily.  “You don’t understand.  It’s a family thing.  I _have_ to do it.”  He finally looked you in the eyes, his expressive face telling you things that made you want to tell him to fuck off or beg him not to go.  “It’s for my brother.  And I’d do the same for you if I had to, College.”

You sat there for what seemed like forever but looking back, wasn’t nearly long enough, your face in your hands, weeping silently and dying again.  He touched your hair, stroked the back of one hand with a single finger, and heaved a ragged sigh.  You got a peek at his face through your fingers and felt something wither inside at the despair there.  “I been thinkin’ a lot about this and I’m smart enough to know you bein’ with me is a fuckin’ train wreck.  My situation over there’s…complicated.”  He paused and ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger.  “If I could walk away now...but I can’t.  It’s too late for me.” 

You could have argued—pleaded even—but in the end, he was going to do what he felt he had to do.

“So I guess we’re redoing our goodbyes then,” you said, barely able to get the words out.  “No, don’t say anything yet.  Just wait a minute.”  You eased off the couch—nothing like some pleasurable but painful reminders to prolong the agony of this whole thing—and found your purse and the thing that you carried with you everywhere you went: a gold Celtic cross necklace.  You took his hand and put it there, closing his fingers over it, holding his hand for a few moments.  “I bought that because it reminded me of you.  I don’t know why because I was trying really hard to forget but it made me feel better somehow.  I don’t wear it because that’s just too…”You stopped and shook your head.  _Personal, like having a piece of him touching you 24/7._   “Anyway, I want you to have it.”

He bit his bottom lip, opened his hand to look at it shining there before slipping it over his head and tucking it under his many shirts.  “So this is it, huh?”  He stood and you stood too, moving to put the couch between you, clutching it hard enough to leave nail marks.

“Yeah.”  You were pretty proud of the way your voice was mostly steady.  “Goodbye, Jem.  James…”

“Coughlin,” he supplied.  “Goodbye, College.”  He cleared his throat and spoke again, his voice breaking as he said your real name.

 

 

 


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jem's locked up and taking a trip down memory lane.

_She was curled up against me on the hard floor, her fine ass pressed up against my morning wood.  I smelled her hair, getting a nose full of whatever spicy sweet shit she used in it, and then I pushed it back to get at her neck.  I had to kiss her there, taste her, and she twitched and sighed, probably from my scratchy ‘stache.  She had beard burn all over from where my whiskers had been rubbing and I liked that way too much._

_It was weird waking up with a chick but kinda nice, having my arms full of her all warm, soft and naked.  I was ready to get started again but I had to take care of business in the john first.  I’d almost got loose when she turned over and wrapped her arms around me and pressed her sleepy face against my chest.  “Don’t go,” she said.  I could feel her lips moving against my skin as she whispered and I caught a sudden flashback of them wrapped around my dick and the way she’d stared up at me like she couldn’t get enough._

_“Easy there, College.  I ain’t goin’ nowhere yet but I gotta piss like a race horse.”  She huffed a little laugh and let me go, settling back down into our pile of blankets with a pouty face and a sigh.  It was beyond fucked up that I could watch her like that, just watch her sleep and touch her and sniff at her like a fuckin’ dog, and get some kinda, I dunno…peace?  The boys’d laugh my ass outta Town._

_I snagged the bowl of leftover Jameson syrup from the kitchen on the way back to our floor bed.  Now she was on her back, one arm across her face and the other up over her head and one leg sticking out from under the mess of blankets and sheets.  Fuck, just lookin’ at her toes made my dick harder._

_Settling back down next to her, I pulled the sheet back slowly, uncovering her gorgeous tits.  Her nipples popped right up as I watched and I damn near spilled the syrup looking.  She made an annoyed sound and tried to roll over but I laid a hand on her belly to keep her still.  Now she had both arms across her face but she was still asleep or pretending to be.  I dipped a finger in the syrup and touched it to one stiff nip and then licked it off.  She arched her back a little and made one of those sounds that made me crazy but she didn’t say nothing else or tell me to stop so I did the same to the other side.  More back arching, more sounds, then she reached out and gave my hair a lazy ruffle.  “Mmm Jem.”_

_“Yeah girl, I got you.”  I went back to work, sucking in  as much of her as I could fit in my greedy mouth, flicking that hard tip with my tongue before easing back and biting a little, just enough to force a moan out of her.  She still wasn’t all the way awake; I could tell because her hand on my head wasn’t doing much yet.  I shifted over and did it again to the left side, her favorite side…funny how I already knew that.  She was moving more now, wiggling around under me, the hand on my head getting grabby, the other one on my shoulder, her little fingers digging in.  I switched back and forth a couple more times but had to stop myself before we ended up fucking.  I needed it to last._

_Moving on to bigger and better things, I shoved the blankets out of the way and got between her legs, bringing the syrup with me and settling in for the long haul.  I never gave much of a fuck about getting a chick off before but that’s all I wanted to do with her.  Watching her face when she came, the way she looked at me, like she didn’t want nobody else…it made me want to never stop._

_“Jem wait…”  She woke up all the way and tried to close her legs and escape, which wasn’t gonna happen.  I wrapped my arms around her thighs and pulled her back down, until her pretty little kitty was right in my face.  It was cute how she got all shy sometimes, like we hadn’t done almost everything to each other already.  She tried to cover herself with her hands and I moved them away, holding her wrists and not letting go._

_“Let me go.  I’ve gotta…you know.”  She got all pink and embarrassed and I swear to God I never saw anything so fuckin’ hot._

_“Ok, but hustle your sweet ass back quick.  I got needs.”_

_When she came back she tried to rush and hide all the goods, so I stopped her.  “Go back and walk over here real slow.  Show me that smokin’ bod.”_

_More blushing but she did it.  She bit her bottom lip and pushed her hair back, stuck her tits out and walked over slow and sexy as fuck, like a stripper on the runway.  “Like this?”_

_“Christ almighty, College.  Get back down here and assume the position.”  She liked that, me gettin’ bossy with her.  I didn’t miss that little hitch in her breath and the way her nipples got hard again.  When I had her all spread out like I wanted, I picked up the syrup and showed it to her.  “Remember I said this shit was gonna blow your mind?”_

_She rose up on her elbows and stared down her body, first at the bowl I had right over her crotch, then at me.  “Yes, but… No.”_

_“Oh yeah.  We’re all outta pancakes and you’re the next best thing.”_

_I held her still with one arm and tipped the bowl.  She hissed like a cat and threw her head back as the thin stream of syrup hit and started trickling down slowly, mixing with the wetness already shining on her puffy, pink lips.  I ditched the bowl, got two handfuls of ass and pulled her down onto my tongue.  I worked it all around, cleaning every sticky drop from below, avoiding that hard little clit.  She was sweet even without my magic syrup._

_“Jesus Jem.”  She grabbed my head and started humping my face._

_“Mmm hmm,” was the best I could do with a wild mouthful.  I’d heard something somewhere about writing shit out with your tongue, so I spelled out my whole name and hers and basically just let her ride my moustache like a fuckin’ pony.  I was gonna have a reminder of this for the next fuckin’ week._

_“Oh God, please suck my clit.”  She slid her hands down and grabbed my ears, tugging me up where she needed me._

_“Whatever you want, baby.”  I gave her clit a long lick and replaced my tongue with my fingers, scissoring them open and closed.  “Like this?”_

_“Yeah.  Please don’t stop doing that.”  She played with my hair and traced my jaw, scraping my stubble with her short nails._

_She was making all those sounds that had me ready to go but I needed to make her come first like I need my next fuckin’ breath.  She was staring down at me again, so I stared back while I sucked and fingered her good, rubbing that special spot.  I saw her lose it; she whispered my name and bit her lip, she closed her eyes and her thighs shook and tightened up around my head.  Her clit throbbed in my mouth and her juicy pussy squeezed my fingers and I couldn’t wait to get inside her so she could come again all over my cock._

_I barely had a chance to catch my breath before she was feeling around the blankets.  “Condoms.  Where are the fucking condoms?  Oh.”  With a dirty grin, she showed me the rubber like it was a prize, ripped it open with her teeth and then rolled it on me like a pro.  She pulled me down on top of her, digging her fingers into my ass and grinding against me.  “Hurry, Jem.  I need you.”_

_“You’ll get me, but slow.”_

_“Nooo.”  She wrapped her legs around me and tried to get me inside but I just laughed and pinned her down._

_“Fuckin’ behave.  I can wait.”  But not long with her pussy sliding hot and wet up and down on me like that._

_“Please, Jem.  I’ll be good.”_

_“Damn right you will.  Now just be still and let me…”  I pushed into her in one slow, steady stroke and we both groaned like we were dying.  She felt so good, so soft and warm and tight.  I had to think about how hard I owned my last Xbox session to keep from blowing.   “Ah fuck, baby.  Don’t move.”_

_Once I got a hold of myself, I started moving but so slow I could feel every inch of her gripping me like a hot, slippery fist.  I liked it just fine but it was making her nuts.  She had her hands all over me, on my head trying to pull my mouth down to hers, up and down my arms and back, grabbing my ass._

_“Faster.  I’m dying.”  She slid her legs down mine and started grinding again, trying to speed up the pace but I wasn’t having it.  We tussled, which was so goddamned hot I had to go back to thinking about Xbox again, but finally I got her legs trapped between mine and her arms pinned down over her head.  Her body relaxed a little but I could feel her heart pounding faster and her pussy getting wetter.  She didn’t say anything, just whimpered and stared up at me, begging me with her eyes._

_“Oh, it’s like that, huh?  You’re just fulla surprises, College girl.”_

_“Jem, please…” she whispered, pink and shy again but hurting for it, hurting for me._

_“You like this?”I gave her wrists a squeeze and widened my thighs enough to open her up for a couple of good pumps._

_“You know I do.”_

_“Beg for it.”_

_“Fuck me please.  Please Jem.  I need you so bad.”_

_She looked right at me when she said it and I believed it.  At least for that moment._

_I picked up my slow pace again, but deeper this time.  I still wouldn’t let her move and she was so excited by that I could feel her getting close again.  I could see it on her face, that helpless, spaced out look, the lip biting.  I dropped my forehead to hers and released her legs.  “Wrap ‘em around me and let’s go.”_

_She did what I told her and we started fucking for real, a little faster, but not as fast as she wanted.  I laughed at the pissed off look she gave me and kept on giving it to her to way I wanted, our faces still close enough to kiss so I could watch her.  I still had her arms and I used them to pull her down onto my cock, almost all the way out, all the way back in, taking my time and enjoying the ride._

_“You need it like this?”_

_“Yes.  Yes…God.”_

_I kissed her, I couldn’t help it.  I never kissed a chick so much as her, never wanted to.  She sucked my tongue and moaned into my mouth on every down stroke.  The moans started getting higher and shorter and I could feel her tightening up._

_“Don’t close your eyes.  I wanna see it.”  She blinked once and then her eyes lost focus.  Her body jerked like she’d been shocked, hard enough to buck me off but I wasn’t going nowhere because she had me in a thigh lock, her heels digging into my ass.  I swear looking into her eyes amped up the feeling of her pussy milking me a million times.  I fucked her faster, made it last until she got that dazed, just-got-my-brains-fucked-out look I knew by now.  Her legs dropped down and I went for mine, letting go of her wrists to grab her shoulders and spreading her wide with my knees._

_“Jem.”  She said my name all breathy and desperate and that was it.  I pulled out and climbed up her body, straddling her waist and ripping the rubber off.  She didn’t even hesitate, wrapping one hand around mine to help me jerk myself and offering her tits to me with the other.  “Fuck yes, come on me.  Come all over me.”  She opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out, wiggling the tip up and down, pleading for it._

_I blasted hard, the first burst striping her face, her lips and tongue, all the way up into her hair, then I painted her tits with the rest like fuckin’ Picasso.  I had a crazy fucked up urge to mark her every way I could.  Beard burn, finger marks, handprints…sticky spunk I rubbed into her skin with my dick and hands.  I slid back down on top of her, found her hands and wove my fingers with hers, pressing them down next to her head.  I kissed her again, licking myself off of her lips, giving her a taste.  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, girl.  You’re bad.”_

_“Hah.  You love it.”  She reached up and swiped away the remaining come from her face and stuck her finger in her mouth, eyeing me with that sass face from yesterday._

_“Crazy, dirty and kinky.  My kinda girl.”_

_We hunkered back down to recover.  I rolled onto my back and she threw an arm and leg over me, scooting up close and pressing herself against my thigh.  Before long, I could feel her going limp, her breathing getting slow and even._

_“Why me?” I wondered out loud, more to myself than to her, my brain going a hundred miles a minute like always._

_“Dunno.  Just had to.  Only you.”_

 

I open my eyes, confused like I always am when I dream about her, see the bunk above me, hear my cellie sawing logs.  My fucked up life now, for the past five years and at least the next four.

My hand is down my prison issues, wrapped around my aching dick.  Another few minutes of dream fucking and I would have blown like a goddamn kid.  I start jerking, not wasting the rare moments of silence and near privacy of the very early morning.  I’m so primed it don’t take long.  Just a couple of thoughts of her, riding me, fucking my face, begging me in that way she did, and I blast off, right into the crusty fuckin’ sock I keep nearby for the occasion.

Sure, it’s hell being here instead of outside, locked up in a cage like a fuckin’ rabid dog but I can handle myself.  I had to fuck a couple motherfuckers up in the beginning so they all knew I wasn’t gonna be nobody’s bitch and every now and then I gotta tune somebody up who’s feelin’ lucky but mostly I’m good. 

The real hell is all the time I have to think and remember every last little thing about her and being with her, until it seems like we was together for a month instead of two times.  It wasn’t even two full days but I go over and over that time in my head, keeping it crystal clear and storing it up, not just to get me through the rest of my time, but the rest of my sorry ass life. 

I reach under my pillow and pull out something I stole the last time I was at her place.  It’s a picture of her and I angle it around, trying to pick up some light from outside the cell.  I don’t really need to see it though; I’ve looked at it so much it’s burned into my fuckin’ brain, just like everything else about her.  It was taken in the kitchen of her place.  I know that because I can see the counter we fucked against.  Her hair is shorter and she’s skinnier and she’s smiling at whoever took the picture, a wrapped bottle of something in one hand, pointing to it with the other.  I like to think that’s when she first moved in and got away from the asshole who manhandled her.  If I coulda got her to tell me his name, I’d be in here for something a little more worth it.

I know she ain’t waiting around for me.  She don’t write and she don’t visit and I’m mostly ok with that.  I made a choice and I gotta live with it.  We said our goodbyes and she deserves the best.  She’s too good to be dragged down into the shithole of my life.  If I’da known beforehand the way things were gonna go between me and her, I woulda turned around and walked right outta that coffee shop. 

I grin in the dark and slip the picture back under my pillow.  That is the biggest fuckin’ lie I ever told myself.

It’s over and done.  She ain’t for me.

 

 

 

    


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance (?) meeting with Jem after he gets out of prison.

You were in Boston Common at the Frog Pond when you saw Jem again.  One moment you were watching all of the children cooling off in the water and the next, you had that feeling of being watched yourself.  You looked around to see him on the opposite side of the pond, staring you down.

Not even nine years and a lot more knowledge about James “Jem” Coughlin could suppress that dizzying surge of adrenaline that jolted through your body whenever you saw him.

“I’ll be right back,” you called to your companions as you headed towards where he now stood, alone under a tree, set apart from the crowd of strolling couples in love, parents with overexcited kids, and people lunching on the benches lining the path.

So many things about him were the same: that brutally short wiffle haircut, the mustache and soul patch chin scruff thing that gave you a little frisson just looking at it, the smug set of his mouth.  Different were the inked shamrocks marching down the undersides of the rock-hard forearms he had crossed over his chest and the bit of a Celtic cross you could see peeking out from under his right sleeve.  His eyes were different too, harder, the devilish spark that had perhaps been for you alone extinguished and replaced with predatory wariness.

He had on a black t-shirt and black track pants in defiance of the muggy Boston heat.  Around his neck was the gold necklace you’d given him before he went away, the pendant that had no doubt inspired the arm tat gleaming bright against the black material.    

“Hello, Jem,” you said, stopping a few feet away from him.  You didn’t have a lot of time so you dove right in.  “When did you get back?  And how’d you find me here?”

“Well, hello to you too, College.”  He pushed away from the tree he was leaning against and moved a little closer.  Involuntarily, you took a step back and he cocked his head at you with a smirk but stayed where he was.  “Been back about a week.  And I wasn’t lookin’ for you.  I was just cuttin’ through here and there you were.  I got some fuckin’ luck, huh?”

Hard to believe, but really what difference did it make?  Deep down, you knew this was going to happen eventually and you were better prepared than you were the last time you saw him. 

You were about to answer when you heard what you’d been hoping to put off a bit longer: a sweet-voiced child calling for its mommy and the laughter of a man trailing close behind.  Another few seconds passed before a small body tackled your legs, fat arms clinging.

There was one of those heavily pregnant pauses where no one says a thing, but Jem looked like he’d just taken a bat to the head.  His eyes traveled from the child mouthing your thigh to somewhere above your head and then back to your face. 

“Everything ok here, Sara?”  Your husband placed a subtle proprietary hand on the small of your back before scooping up the giggling, squealing ball of energy that was your little boy and moving to stand beside you.

“Everything’s fine, Michael.”  You took the squirming baby—actually a feisty two-year-old—who promptly grabbed a fistful of your hair and stuck two fingers in his mouth, staring at Jem in that intent way that children do.  “This is Jem… James Coughlin.  Jem, my husband, Michael.”

Michael stepped forward, offering his hand to shake.  After just a beat too long, Jem took it.  “I’m glad we’re finally meeting, James.  Sara told me about you.”

Jem looked at you like he expected you would have kept him a dirty secret.  “Yeah, good to meet you, Mike.  Who’s the little guy?”

You stroked the little guy in question’s head full of dark curls and pulled his fingers out of his mouth.  “Say hi, Jamie.”  Jamie stared a little more before hiding his face against your chest with a mock shy grin.   “Sorry, he does this with everyone lately.”

Jem’s face was doing that thing again where every emotion was plain as day.  You could see the hurt, envy and wonder there as his eyes took in Jamie from his chubby bare feet up to the fingers still buried in your hair.  He moved closer, reaching out to touch one of Jamie’s fat sable curls.  “Jamie short for something?” he asked, his voice low and a little strained.

“What do you think, Townie Boy?”  The pet name just slipped out and you hoped Michael could forgive you for the lapse.  Jem would forever have the power to bring out the crazy in you.

Jem snorted and went back to smirking and you could breathe again.  You didn’t think you’d ever forget that look as he’d touched the child you’d made with a man that wasn’t him.

Michael cleared his throat, further diffusing the tension.  “Let me take Jamie to the playground.”  He peeled Jamie off of you, leaning close for a moment.  “You’re ok, right?  Take whatever time you need.”  He turned to Jem.  “James,” he said, doing one of those dude nod things in lieu of saying goodbye.  One more meaningful glance at you and then he headed over to the playground, a babbling Jamie reaching for you over his shoulder.

“Takes some balls to let your wife name your baby after some punk kid she used to fuck,” Jem said, watching Michael and Jamie navigate the swings.

You winced when Jamie took a tumble, relaxing when he got right back up again.  “It was his idea,” you said, smiling a little at Jem’s you gotta be fucking kidding me face.  “Michael’s quite a man.  He helped me—still helps me—deal with my feelings for you.  I told him everything and he understood.  Like you, he accepts me in all of my fucked up glory.”

Jem chuckled—that sound that would always flip your switch—but it was a pissed off chuckle.  “I might like him if I didn’t hate him so fuckin’ much right now.  We’re some fucked up bunch of people.”

“Mmm,” you said.  Across the way, Jamie had escaped from the swing area and Michael was chasing him down, Jamie running as fast as his little legs would carry him, shrieking with glee and laughing with complete abandon like only very young children can.  “I wanted to visit you…there.  I wrote letters and either tore them up or cried on them until they were ruined.  And then I would remind myself that whatever it was between you and me was—is over.  You had a life I couldn’t fit into and you made your choice.”  Michael caught Jamie and they were rolling around in the grass.  Michael pointed up at you and together they waved and smiled.  “I was pretty horrified when I saw what you did.  I thought about what that guy might have done to deserve that and what you told me right before and I tried to put that all together with what I knew about you, which was practically nothing.”

Jem ran a hand over his hair and rubbed the back of his neck.  “And then you started hatin’ me for takin’ that bastard out?”  He sounded a little defensive but mostly resigned.  “He had it comin’.”

“I kept going over and over how you told me it was for your brother and how you said you would have done the same for me, trying to make sense of that, and it got me thinking about my ex.  Towards the end, I might have done what you did.  Hell, I had the knife in my hand a couple of times.  He had it coming too, big time, and I was ready to do what I had to do to survive.  So no, I don’t hate you for that.  I just hate that you put yourself last in all of this.  I hope your brother fucking appreciates it.”    

Jem laughed a sad little laugh.  “He don’t even know.  He ain’t my real brother but he’s good.  Too good for some kid to pop him like a dog in the street.”

“Yeah well, fuck your fake brother,” you said heatedly.  Michael somehow picked up on your body language because he sat up and was looking towards you, poised to jump up and rescue you if need be.  You waved him off and he went back to laying down so that Jamie could pull up handfuls of grass to sprinkle on him.

Jem laughed again, this time for real.  “I mighta thought that a few times too over the last nine years.”  You looked at him and he was watching you, taking you all in like you had done with him that first time you were together.  Storing up memories for when this was over.

“So how long you been together?” he asked, still holding your gaze.

“We’ve been married three years but it took about a year before that for him to wear me down.  I was such a bitch to him because he wasn’t you.  Jamie’s two, by the way.”      

He pursed his lips and smiled a little at that, shaking his head.  “He’s good to you?”  Jem asked. 

“The best,” you said, looking back over to where Michael and Jamie were to find that they’d moved back to the Frog Pond and were wading around.

“Yeah, you deserve the best, Sara.” 

You were both silent for a while, neither one of you wanting to be the one to make the final move.  Jamie was starting to rub his eyes and get cranky and Michael glanced at you, his patience obviously wearing thin.

On impulse, you went to Jem and hugged him.  You didn’t remember ever just hugging him.  He stood there frozen for a moment, like he didn’t quite know what to do, before awkwardly hugging you back.  “I have to go now.  I’m really glad I got to see you again but no more, Jem.  I just can’t.  Just know that if things had been different and not so complicated, it would have been you.”  Before he could say anything else you gave him a quick kiss and ran off, back to your life now.   

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenway aftermath.

“Hey Sara, you should probably see this,” Michael called from the living room. 

You came out of the kitchen, chili-coated wooden spoon still in hand, to see him standing in front of the TV.  He was looking at you in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time; the way he used to look at you when you’d tell him something about Jem, concerned with a hint of pity.  He placed a hand on your shoulder and guided you to the couch, sitting you down gently.

_“This is an update on the Fenway shootout story that 7 News brought you first.  Police have confirmed this was an attempted robbery and that four suspects were fatally wounded after firing on officers.  A source close to the story has identified the suspects as Desmond ‘Dez’ Eldon, Albert ‘Gloansy’ Magloan, Douglas ‘Duggy’ MacRay and James ‘Jem’ Coughlin.”_

Then his mug shot was on the screen.  You felt light-headed; there was a weird buzzing in your ears.

Jem was gone. 

Your mind blanked and then you were back to that first night.  You were lying in that rickety bed, sated on sex and late night pancakes. 

_“So who are you really, Jem Townie Boy?” you asked, rubbing his chest and playing with his happy trail.  You couldn’t seem to get enough of touching him._

_He’d been staring up at the ceiling but he raised his head and gave you a look.  “Outsida here,” he said, glancing around your room and then back at you, “I’m nobody, just another Townie punk.  Nothin’ special at all.”_

_You begged to differ for reasons you couldn’t fully explain but you let his statement slide.  You wanted to know everything about him.  You’d brought him home and fucked him—repeatedly—and it was only natural but you weren’t going to push the issue just then.  Instead, you pinched his nipple and snuggled closer.  “So you’re saying I make you feel special?” you asked, with a grin._

_He slid a hand down to your ass and gave it a squeeze.  “You make me feel somethin’ alright.”  He pulled you on top of him, not to fuck again but just for the closeness.  His hands roamed, touching, stroking, petting you, but it was tentative, almost shy, like he wasn’t used to doing something so intimate for so long.  “You gonna regret this in the morning, College?”_

_You kissed him, sweet and chaste this time, and you could swear he blushed.  “Not tomorrow.  Not ever.  I’ve done some things I regret, Jem, but I promise you, this—you—won’t be one of them.”_

You blinked and looked around.  You were on the couch, one hand still clutching the wooden spoon in a death grip, the other ice cold and clinging to Michael’s warm one.  Jamie was on the floor in front of the now silent TV, jabbering away happily, playing with his Duplo blocks and completely oblivious.

Shaking Michael’s hand off, you rose and made your way back into the kitchen on autopilot.  The chili needed to be stirred.  It was going to burn.  If you didn’t do something, it was going to…

“ _Sara_.  Dammit!” You didn’t feel the pain of the scalding chili that had splashed onto your skin until Michael was prying the spoon out of your hand.  Had he been repeating your name?  It was hard to say because you were having trouble focusing.  The only things in your head were that mug shot and the newscaster’s words: fatally wounded.  Michael turned on the tap and shoved your hand under it.  “Keep it there while I deal with Jamie.”

You thought back to that syrup you hid in the back of your refrigerator after Jem left the first time, always there but just out of sight.  Jem being in the same city was exactly like that.  You thought about him more often than you cared to admit, especially after seeing him in the park.  Of course, you loved Michael and Jamie like nothing else but deep down in your stupid heart, you’d kept a tiny ember burning for Jem and now it had been snuffed out.

When Michael returned, you were on the floor on all fours, crying so hard you could barely breathe.  He scooped you up in his arms, those strong, capable arms that had held you and comforted you through years of your crazy bullshit, a lot of it involving the person you were currently bawling your eyes out over.

“Michael…wait,” you managed, before scrambling out of his arms and into the bathroom.  You lay on the cold tile floor after puking your guts out, trying not to think of anything except Jamie, trying to remind yourself that it was fucked with you and Jem from the start. Jesus, his face at the park that day as he’d taken in your happy little family…like you’d stabbed him in the back.  Or in the heart.   You lurched up and dry heaved some more.

At some point, Michael managed to bandage your hand, scrape you off the floor and get you to bed with a Valium.  You stared up at the ceiling as you drifted off, listening to Jamie’s adorable gibberish on the baby monitor that Michael had switched on.  As sweet as Michael was, he knew how to fight dirty.  You had to give it to him.  He knew exactly how to handle you.

“You never really had him, Sara.  But you’ll always have us.  Remember that,” he said.

You rolled over, giving him your back.  “Fuck off please, Michael.  Just don’t right now.”        

The next couple weeks passed by in a blur.  The only thing that helped you keep it together was Jamie.  At first, you avoided the news because you couldn’t deal but then you couldn’t get enough, hoping to learn everything you could about a guy you’d fucked but knew almost nothing about.  If there had been a funeral, you’d been too out of it to attend and really, what right did you even have to be there?  Michael had called you on the guilt too, which had led to a fight and another meltdown and now you were barely speaking.

On the fourth Saturday after the shit hit the fan, you woke up early, feeling weak but clear-headed, like after a fever breaks.  You eased out of bed without waking Michael, tidied up without a shower and, after a brief glance at Jamie sleeping peacefully, slipped silently out of the house.

After a couple of frustrating stops that needed to be made, you found yourself parked across from the house on Pearl Street.  The news had supplied the location although you probably could have cruised the streets until you found the worn down triple decker with the crime scene tape hanging askew on the little stoop.  The street was empty at this time of day and even if someone did question your reason for being there, you were fully prepared to tell them to fuck off.

You got out and walked all the way around it, trying to imagine him here, wondering which windows were his, what his room looked like.  You sat on the stoop and cracked open the travel bottle of Jameson you’d brought and drank down half.  He could have sat right where you were now and done the exact same thing.  Smiling slightly, you poured the rest on the ground at your feet.  So many things you’d never ever know.

One day you’d find his grave and say a proper goodbye but for now this would do.  Standing, you opened your hand and let go of the three flowers you’d just gone through hell to get:  a black rose for death, a purple hyacinth for regret, and a red tulip for everlasting love.  You touched your fingers to your lips, pressed them to the door and then went home, where you belonged.


End file.
